


On My Way Down

by DreamDeferred



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A bit of Sterek pre-slash, Angst, Death, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 19:09:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamDeferred/pseuds/DreamDeferred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was no slow death for the human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On My Way Down

There was no slow death for the human.

One second. Deucalion’s clawed hand swipes out, faster than Stiles could ever move, and knocks the wolfsbane laced knife from his grip. He scratches the back of Stiles’ hand in the process, and gets knicked by the blade. He winces.

Another second. Stiles stumbles back a step and stares at Deucalion, blood from a cut on his forehead streaking down over his nose, curling around his mouth. Deucalion stares right back, his face void of emotion. There’s a collective scream from the pack. Scott and Derek break into a run for Stiles.

One more second. Deucalion shifts in the blink of an eye, his clawed hand snatching out again. Stiles throws his arms out to keep him away a moment too late. The alpha’s arm snakes down, and the claws dig into his abdomen with a sick squelch. Stiles’ eyes go wide and he coughs, and there’s blood dribbling down his chin. Deucalion closes his fist, tearing more flesh like it’s wet paper between his claws.

Stiles is thrown from Deucalion, his body landing in a flop feet away. Boyd, Isaac, and Erica are immediately on the alpha, tearing at him, rage getting them the upper hand for the first time in this fight. Scott skids and falls to his knees as Stiles sails over his head. He and Derek quickly recover and land next to Stiles.

“Stiles, Stiles, nonononono, Stiles,” Scott whimpers, his hands gripping Stiles arm. Derek can smell Scott trying to leech pain out of Stiles, and he hears his frustrated, wet cry as he feels nothing transferred back to him. He stares at his hands gripping Stiles’ forearm, resolutely not looking at the glassy look in Stiles’ wide eyes. Derek stares at his face, bloodstained, pale, and so dead.

He can’t breathe. Derek had, of course, always understood that this could happen. But as he watches Scott bury his face into Stiles’ shoulder, mourning his friend, insensible to the fight nearby, Derek realizes he never imagined that the one he would lose would be Stiles. He feels his soul crack, just like the day at school, when he had known that a piece of him had just been yanked out, and it would never come back, would never heal, would be visible to anyone who ever looked at him.

Deucalion disappears into the treeline, and he hears Erica wail when she sees Stiles, hears her fall to her knees where she stands. He turns and sees his pack is beaten, bloody, covered in dirt, clothes tattered, and nothing looks as bad as it feels. Isaac looks like he can’t quite catch up to this reality, can’t quite believe it. Boyd’s jaw is tense, and he puts his arm around Erica’s shoulder as she sobs, and Derek can already see the resolution for revenge in his face. He can already see that Boyd is going to be carved out of the same stone Derek was, and Derek can’t believe he thought he should bring a bunch of teenagers into something that they would never recover from. 

“This is all your fault!” Scott bellows, still clutching onto Stiles’ navy hoodie that is taking on a sickening, dark stain as his body bleeds out, the cover of night almost hiding it. Derek looks at Scotts wide eyes; his entire face is damp from the spread of his tears, and they’re still falling in a stream that seems it will never stop. Maybe it never will. “You never should have-.” Scott cuts off on another sob and pushes at Stiles’ shoulder. “Bite him, help him, do something,” he pleads weakly. “Why won’t you help him?” And Derek’s just standing there, because all this time, he thought he was helping. He thought he was helping all of them. And maybe it was his fault.

He can’t keep looking at his face. He can’t keep looking at the only face that ever smiled at him like he could be worth something. Thought of the way he waggled his eyebrows at everybody and anybody who even glanced his way, and he never backed down, not even when he was afraid, not until the very end, and Derek wonders why, for the second time, someone else died and he was still alive. He glances once more at Stiles’ slack face, his eyes staring at the sky, and that’s the last time. He turns, and Erica crawls forward a bit, tugging at the ankle of Stiles’ jeans. Derek won’t look back. He grabs Boyd by his bicep and hauls him up off the ground. He looks at Isaac, who looks like all the strength he had gained over the past few months was gone, and he was realizing that this wasn’t a game where no one really lost. Derek locked eyes with Boyd, and Boyd nodded stiffly at him. They started towards the treeline, the way Deucalion had run.

He would pay.

They would all pay.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at sleepingwithsolas!


End file.
